


The Knowledge of Beauty

by TheDreamsOfTheAges (LadyOfTheSouthernIsles)



Series: In Veiled Moments [2]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfTheSouthernIsles/pseuds/TheDreamsOfTheAges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> <img/> </p><p>Ross walks with the philosophers and discovers the knowledge of Beauty where he’d never thought to find it.  Set 6th August, 1787.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this work._

_In a few minutes, they were turning into Nampara Cove. The boat… grounded in the sand. [Ross] got out and, as [Demelza] made to follow, he caught her about the waist and carried her to dry land. He kissed her before he put her down… Then, without words, they turned… and walked together hand-in-hand the half mile to the house.  
_

_She was quite silent. He had never done what he had done tonight. He had never kissed her before except in passion. This was something different. She knew him to be closer to her tonight than he had ever been before. For the very first time they were on a level… They were a man and a woman, with no inequality between them…  
_

_When they reached their room… he put his arms about her… and kissed her._

" _Ross,” she said. “Dear Ross.”_

 _"I love you,” he said, “and am your servant. Demelza, look at me. If I’ve done wrong in the past, give me leave to make amends.”_  
                                                                                                      -  Winston Graham, _Ross Poldark_ (Novel 1), Book 3, Chapter 2.

 

Demelza stared up at him, scarcely able to believe what she’d just heard. Though they were closer tonight than they had ever been before, this had to be – could _only_ be – a dream! He was standing there telling her he _loved_ her. Her! Demelza! His kitchen maid these three or more years past – and wife as well now. A creature of the Earth: no angel, she. And no hope of gaining his heart but hoping for it all the same. He loved _her_. Doubt warred with the desire to believe.

Ross’s lips curved in a half-smile as he watched the struggle play out on Demelza’s face. “You called me ‘dear’ just now,” he reminded her, “and eight – nine? – weeks ago, when you first seduced me,” – he smiled wolfishly as her cheeks flushed dark in the candlelight – “you told me you lived only for me. Have I proved such a poor husband that my love is no longer wished for – or welcome now that you have it?”

“Oh no, Ross!” she said, finding her voice at last. “No! Never that!”

His mood became serious again. “Then believe me, my dearest Demelza, I love you.”

The look in her dark, shining eyes told him that belief had triumphed over doubt. He leant down to kiss her again but she laid a hand on his lips and stopped him. He tilted his head in silent question.

“My heart is full t’ burstin’, Ross,” she said, her gaze roaming over the lean, chiselled planes of his face. “I think mebbe I’ll die of happiness if you kiss me right now. Let me just look at you a while longer.”

He stood, transfixed, as she gently traced her fingers over his forehead, down his jaw line and, finally, along the scar on his cheek. His own heart was in danger of bursting. He covered her hand with his and pressed his face into her palm.

“I – I would not like to lose you so soon, Demelza,” he said, the roughness in his voice giving lie to his attempt at levity, “but if I don’t kiss you, I might be the one to die.” He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her again.

“An’ _I_ wouldn’t like that, my love,” she replied. Then she took his face in her hands and did what _she_ had never done before: she kissed him first.


	2. Chapter 2

The heat of her breath, the soft, warm touch of her lips on his, sent a frisson of sensation through Ross. Though they had been lovers for two months and knew every inch of each other’s body, _this was something different._ She tasted of the sea and summer, and the fresh, night air. He groaned and tightened his hold on her as he kissed her back, captivated by her, by the new-found feeling in his heart.

 _'New-found’ maybe, but not ‘new’_ , he realised with a burst of insight. It had been growing in him for some time now, only he hadn’t had the sense to recognise it until tonight. Other disappointments had worked on his inborn cynicism, priming him for disappointment in this, and so instead he had tried to – what? Sabotage emotion with reason? Consign it to the realm of the Commonplace with a neat, tidy – and utterly facile – explanation?

He lifted his head and stared down at his wife. “Two Demelzas indeed.” The softly-spoken words contained more than a hint of self-deprecation.

“W – What?” she asked, in some confusion.

He gave her a wry smile. “You would not hold me in such high esteem if you knew how lacking in perception I’ve been.”

Her face cleared and she bit back a smile of her own. “I d’know already, Ross, an’ it makes no difference t’ my esteem for ‘ee.”

“Oh?” Something in her tone put him on his guard.

Her dark eyes danced with mischief as she enlightened him. “‘Tes a common failing in men and any woman with half an ounce of common sense will know t’ make allowance for it.”

Arching a cool brow, he attempted a retreat into superiority but rather ruined the effect by sliding his hand down her back and pinching her on the bottom. She buried her head in his chest with a muffled squeal, and his admonition became a caress as he spread his palm over the curve of her backside and kneaded away the pain.

Demelza’s breath hitched in her throat; she instinctively arched her back and pressed into his touch.

With his other hand, he tugged at the scarlet kerchief about her hair and sent her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders but when he reached for the ties on the old shirt she had borrowed for their night-time expedition, she put her hand over his and stopped him.

“Ye did say you was _my_ servant, Ross,” she reminded him, her tone too innocent by far.

“Y-es,” he said cautiously.  

“Well then! It do seem t’ me that _I_ should have the orderin’ of things t’night!”

“Does it, by God!” was all he could think to say to that.

“It does, by God!” she replied, laughing.

He could only stare at her now. He knew enough to recognise when she was in one of her whimsical, wayward moods but he was surprised by it all the same. Apart from that first, inexplicable night, when she had set this whole thing in motion, she had never before claimed the ordering of anything intimate between them, being happy instead to follow his lead. _Though not quite entirely_ , he corrected as he recalled a particularly pleasant midday encounter with her down on Hendrawna Beach a couple of weeks earlier. But did she mean now what he thought she meant? Had his declaration of love made such a difference to her confidence?

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face at his silence, and he was reminded of her youth and relative inexperience. He was quick to banish her doubt. “Well then, Mistress Poldark! I am at your disposal and stand ready to take your orders.”

His reward was a dazzling smile and so far from awaiting her instruction, he was impelled to take hold of her hips and pull her flush against the hard length of him.

“Ah-ah!” she said, stopping him once more as she laid a hand on his chest and leaned back a little. “I am right glad t’ find ‘ee standing _almost_ ready as promised, Ross,” – she paused and looked down meaningfully to where their hips were still joined, and _almost_ earned herself another pinch in the process – “but ’tis not what I’ve a mind for quite yet.”

“Then just what _do_ you have a mind for, my love?”

The way the endearment slipped from his lips, so naturally and with such _warmth_ , drove every other thought out of her head. Her eyes fixed on his mouth and she was the one who was silent now.

“Demelza?” he said, giving her a little shake. Not the wisest course of action: he was still pressing into her softness. The movement sent a delicious jolt of sensation through his groin and started a slow burn in his belly. “Demelza?” he repeated, his voice hoarse all of a sudden.

She heard his need, felt him stirring against her, and almost gave in then and there. But this was something she had thought about a _lot_ over the last two months and he might never offer himself up like this again. For all that she felt them to be equal tonight it had not yet occurred to her that the bonds of marriage – and now love – might make him hers for the asking.

She raised her eyes to his and answered him. “Amends, Ross. Amends.”

He looked puzzled.

“Ye asked my leave t’ make amends,” she explained, “an' amends is what I have a mind for.”


End file.
